Page 27 of Cupid Loves Curves

Luke opens and closes his mouth a few times, and it seems he’s doubting the whole idea.

“Though we can bail if you want. We don’t have to do this,” I say quickly, offering him a way out, though I mentally cross my fingers because I don’t want to bail. I know it won’t amount to anything, but I’ve genuinely missed Luke, and spending an evening with him would definitely not suck. My brother would have things to say about this, but he’s not here, and I don’t care.

Luke gives me a long look, rubbing his hand through his dark hair and messing it up in a way that he probably doesn’t even realize is sexy. He shakes his head. “We’re here, so we may as well go through with it. If you’re okay with that,” he adds as if unsure.

I smile and try to play it cool as he opens the door for me, but inwardly, my heart beats like an over-caffeinated pogo stick.

“Hello, and welcome to Ciao, Bella! You must be Jessica and Luke. Is that right?”

We both nod at the petite blonde woman in front of us. She has enough enthusiasm to light up a power grid.

I shiver as Luke lightly places a hand on my lower back and steps closer. I could get used to this. His hand is achingly close to my butt, and desire burns through me, wishing his hand would slide a little lower. I know Luke is a bad man to fantasize about, but what’s one night? Right?

“Great. I’m Greta, and I’ll be your instructor for tonight. I hope you brought your appetites with you!”

Greta tells us the restaurant is closed for the evening, so it’s just us here tonight. A strange, intense excitement courses through me. Before Luke abruptly ended things with me, he made me feel so special and seen. The Matchmaker booking the entire restaurant for us reminds me of that specialness. With it only being us and the instructor, we have to be present and together, with no one else to distract us.

Once Greta has led us to the kitchen and we’re in aprons, she explains the plan for this part of the evening. “Alright, you two! Let’s get started with our main dish, a classic pasta carbonara,” the instructor announces, her voice echoing in the kitchen.

I reach for the olive oil, my hand brushing against Luke’s as he does the same. “Oops, sorry,” I mumble, looking away when warmth floods my cheeks.

“No problem,” Luke replies, his voice almost a whisper.

His fingers linger a fraction longer than necessary, sending an unexpected shiver down my spine. A wave of confusion crashesover me. Has he forgotten how he ended things two years ago? It almost feels like we’re picking up where we left off, but I know that’s a crazy thought. You don’t go back to that kind of familiar intimacy after two years apart, do you? We both said yes to going through with tonight, but what if that was the wrong decision? I’m questioning my sanity about now.

We stand shoulder to shoulder at the stainless steel countertop. I’m hyper-aware of Luke’s proximity. Does he keep bumping into me on purpose? I glance at him, trying to read his expression, but he’s focused on the instructor. Intentional or not, I ache to be in his arms again. Did the matchmaker know about our past? Is this genuinely a random match?

“Next, you’ll want to whisk your eggs thoroughly before adding them to the pan,” Greta says, demonstrating with a flourish.

“Guess it’s all in the wrist action,” Luke teases, glancing at me with a hint of mischief dancing in his intense eyes.

“Is that so?” I retort, attempting to keep my tone light. It’s like my mind and mouth can’t stop flirting with him, regardless of my doubts about all this. “I’ll have you know my wrist action is top-notch.”

Luke fixes me with another intense look, and I can barely maintain eye contact because my heart is pounding so hard. “I see,” he says, a smile playing on his lips.

A lightning strike of lust pierces my core, and I squeeze my thighs together, hoping Luke doesn’t notice how much he’s affecting me. How can he still make me feel so much? Have I forgotten how he broke my heart? Everything about this matchmaking date is not what I imagined it would be!

“Jessica,” he says, his breath warm against my ear, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re enjoying this as much as I am.”

I look up into his brown eyes, speechless. I can’t trust myself not to utter words that will lead to something I’ll almost certainly regret.

“I’ll take your silence as agreement,” Luke says, the corners of his mouth quirking into a smile.

We continue following Greta’s instructions, and before long, we’re plating our meal. Will the butterflies in my stomach calm down enough for me to eat any of this? Who knows?

“Need a hand with that?” Luke’s breath fans over my neck as he reaches around me to drizzle a balsamic reduction over our Caprese salad.

“Please,” I breathe, leaning toward him. His body heat seeps into me, and I want to stay like this forever.

“Looks perfect,” he murmurs, his gaze locked on mine.

As if I didn’t already know, one glance into Luke’s dark eyes confirms that he isn’t simply talking about the food.

“Looks like we survived,” Luke says, his voice low and threaded with amusement.

Our eyes lock, and there’s no mistaking the heat in his gaze. Luke’s eyes flicker over my face, and I know my expression doesn’t hide my white-hot desire for him. We may not have dated for long, but he could always read the emotions better than anyone else.

“Let’s eat, then.” Luke smiles, rubbing his fingertips across the bare skin of my forearm. “We still have more to do tonight.”

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